Arc-hbishop
by drawingdisaster
Summary: Medieval AU. Jaune is trying to support his family after his father passes away at the end of the war, yet he lacks the necessary skills to succeed in his various business endeavors. He struggles to find his place in the world until he comes across a weird statue that would change his life forever. Short fantasy story.
1. Chapter 1

The Emerald Forest was a sight to behold during the season of spring. Birds chirped happily on the branches of the trees and little critters ran about amongst the bushes searching for sustenance. The sun shone brightly in the sky, the sounds of the forest only being interrupted by the repetitive chopping of a lone lumberjack's axe. The teenager huffed and wheezed as his axe bit into the bark of the tree, his shoulders shifting with every breath, beads of sweat glinting on his forehead.

"This looked so much easier in my head." Panted the young man, his words tinged with an almost tangible hue of exhaustion as he kept swinging his axe. The inexperienced lumberjack's blond tresses sticking to the front of his head due to his perspiration.

"Come on, fall down already," He begged the tree out of breath, "Pretty, please?" He whined when the tree trunk refused to budge. "Fine, be that way." The lumberjack muttered after a minute of wobbly strikes that barely damaged the tree.

The lumberjack sighed as he sat down on a tree stump to rest, his arms aching painfully. Leaning his head backwards to peer at the afternoon sun with sky blue orbs, the teenager's tired expression giving way to one of forlorn and heartache.

"There goes another wasted morning. I should have tried my hand at fishing instead of doing this." Mumbled one Jaune Arc, letting the axe fall from his hand with a thudding noise. The young man looked crestfallen at the leather satchel that rested near the stump that he sat upon. Small sticks and cut leafy tree blanches could be seen laying in its brown confines. Jaune really doubted that the firewood he had spent all morning collecting would net him more than a couple of Lien at the market. And that's only _if_ he even managed to sell it when people could just collect sticks for kindling from the wild plants and stunted saplings that were growing in their backyards.

Once upon a time the Arcs were one of the wealthiest families in the kingdom of Vale. Their members were servings as knights and soldiers for the king's army. The continent prospered until the Great War that had brought poverty and suffering to the land. Jason Arc's death at the final battle before Atlas' surrender had put an end to the golden times of the Arc clan, leaving Jaune's mother a widow with eight children to feed. The family's former wealth had diminished considerably over the following years as Ariadne Arc did her best to raise her family alone. Jaune had attempted venturing into various professions to support his family since he had reached his adolescence, but whether it was hunting, crafting things or training to be a soldier, Jaune seemingly lacked the talent necessary to succeed in his chosen profession. Today's business venture, making a living as a lumberjack appeared to be another pipe dream doomed to fail.

"Why don't you try knitting instead, Jauney boy. A woman's job would suit you better after all." Suddenly, the mocking voice of another teenager caused the young lumberjack to span around in fright. Four other people had somehow managed to sneak up on him while Jaune had been busy cursing his own incompetence. The young Arc recognized Cardin Winchester and his usual lackeys, a bunch of local troublemakers that kept pestering him due to his family's misfortune.

"O-oh hey, Cardin. I didn't expect to see you here." Jaune smiled halfheartedly, knowing that antagonizing the taller teen would only lead to him getting a beating and worrying his mother when he returned home bruised and bloody.

The taller teenager snorted while approaching the dabbling lumberjack. "Of course you didn't, otherwise you wouldn't be here. You've been avoiding us lately, Jauney boy and I don't appreciate having to do my chores in your absence."

Jaune tried to maintain his smile even as he started sweating profusely, this time, however, the boy's perspiration didn't have to do anything with exhaustion. The troublemakers were within grabbing distance, too close for Jaune to run away from them even if he gathered the courage to flee into the forest.

"M-my bad, Cardin. I totally forgot about it, I'm sorry. Look, how about I come to help you early tomorrow morning and bring a slice of mom's famous apple-pie for you as an apology?" Jaune stuttered nervously feeling like there was an entire wagon of iron in his stomach, his legs paralyzed from fear feeling like tree roots attached to the forest's floor. Cardin stared at him fixedly for a long moment like a wolf that's about to maim a poor rabbit, his lackeys smirking beside him, drinking in the poor boy's fear like the monsters of legend. Then abruptly, Cardin smiled good-naturedly.

"Of course, Jauney Boy. No hard feeling between friends." The young Arc relaxed as Cardin slapped a hand against his back nearly knocking him to the ground. Jaune released the breath that he hadn't realized that he has been holding. The taller teenager was about to leave when a dangerous glint appeared on his eyes. Cardin spotted something lying near the tree stump.

"Oh, what is an axe doing here, lying in the middle of nowhere?" The burly teen wondered exaggeratedly as he picked up Jaune's axe and examined it in false befuddlement, "Somebody could hurt himself if he stepped on it by accident." Cardin continued as he frowned at the cutting tool.

"Cardin that's mine-" Jaune hurriedly said, but Cardin had already pulled his arm back, a little grin plastered on his face. The axe was hurled into the foliages and out of sight at the next moment.

"There you go," Cardin slapped Jaune's back again, "Now nobody is going to accidentally get hurt and you can return back to doing whatever you've been doing out here before we arrived. You are welcome, Jauney Boy. " The smirking teenager called over his shoulder while departing, his three lackeys laughing loudly as they followed him.

Jaune deflated. He had borrowed that axe from a neighbor that would demand to be recompensated for its loss if he didn't return it. His mother would have to pay for it with the Lien that they were planning to use to buy his youngest sister's birthday present. Opal would be devastated if she didn't get a new doll after their mother had promised to buy her one on her birthday.

Shaking his head, Jaune started searching for old man Ozpin's axe in the general direction that Cardin had thrown it. He would be damned if he made Opal cry on her own birthday.

* * *

**0000**

"Did you see the look on his face when you threw away his hatchet?" Laughed Sky Lark while wiping tears of joy from his eyes. His other friends mimicked his action. Dove had a small smile on his face as he chuckled whereas Russel Thrust was holding his stomach from laughter and Cardin's smirk widened at the thought of tormenting the timid boy. The four of them were walking around the forest looking for a secluded spot to enjoy their drinks. Russel, whose father owned the town's tavern had managed to steal a few bottles of booze from his father's stock the previous night and the four troublemakers had agreed to finish them in the forest away from pesky adults and their dumb rules.

"Jaune boy needs to grow some stones," The leader of the party spat, thinking back to the blond boy's cowardice, "We are simply preparing him for what the world's gonna throw at him. We are doing him a favor, if you get what I am saying." The orange-haired teen insisted when the other three teens remained silent. When his friends failed to reply for a second time, Cardin turned to face them with a frown.

The boy's initial frown quickly morphed into a strained mask of stunned disbelief when he witnessed two of his friends laying face down on the ground, crimson pools of coppery liquid spreading around them, arrow shafts peeking out from their motionless bodies. A man dressed in a dark cloak and wearing a beast-like mask was standing next to Russel, his blade sticking out of the teenager's chest. A red stain was steadily blossoming across his shirt, drops of blood trickling down from his gaping mouth. Russel and Cardin locked gazes, their eyes equally wide and frightened. The sack with the bottles of wine slipping out of Russel's nerveless grip, its contents shattering on the ground with a mournful noise.

"What in the King's name-" Cardin croaked before a searing pain exploded on his back, a silver fang of hammered steel emerging from his own chest a second later. With wide eyes and blurring vision, Cardin peered over his shoulder noticing another man dressed in the same getup as the first attacker. The four dark slits of the grey mask stared emotionlessly at him, a black scarf had been wrapped around the mouth of the swordsman, yet Cardin could almost feel the sinister smile forming on his killer's lips. A pair of hooked deer antlers was visible, sprouting out of twin holes cut in the man's dark hood.

Cardin had heard of the White Fang from his father. They were apparently a bunch of bloodthirsty faunus defectors that had banded together after the end of the Great War. Atlas used to employ them in suicide missions or used them as cannon fodder due to the more militaristic kingdom's superstitious beliefs and xenophobia. The faunus had reached Atlas as refugees from a faraway land hundreds of years ago and had been treated as second class citizens since then by the original denizens of the northern kingdom. The band of marauders that comprised the White Fang performed bloody raids and acts of violence against small towns before retreating, leaving carnage and smoking ruins behind them. Butchering every human they happened to stumble upon as an outlet for their years of oppression.

The stories of Cardin's father made them out to be nothing more than rabid animals, filthy mongrels that should be wiped out without a second thought. The man behind him appeared to be having the same notions as Cardin's father, but for the orange-haired boy that was bleeding out in front of him. He viewed the young Winchester as a foul thing stuck on his blade, an insignificant insect the buzzing of which kept him awake at night.

The White Fang would silence all of Humanity's obnoxious buzzing, eventually. Extinguishing the human parasites one town of arrogant liars and condescending slavers at a time.

* * *

**0000 **

The deeper Jaune moved into the forest the greener and more extravagant the flora around him became. Modest trees gave away to gnarled titans with branching peaks of emerald crowns. The ancient roots of the trees creating abstract sculptures as they twisted and splayed across the ground, plunging into the dirt and then resurfacing, disappearing from sight or resting under the sun, downing thick gowns of moss.

Jaune wandered across the sea of green, his eyes searching for the glimmer of metal lying near the base of a tree. He had been searching for the lost axe for at least an hour now, dragging his feet while carrying his satchel of meager firewood. Jaune was starting to get hungry, his trousers were dirty from all the crawling and shrub -diving he had done to look for his axe.

"This is hopeless." Jaune mumbled as he stopped walking to take in the sights of all the bastions of green that were hindering his progress. Jaune would have to walk around each one of those trees and part the foliages of each thicket to make sure that his axe wasn't hidden under the shade of their bosoms. Jumping above another mass of interwoven roots and knotted bark, Jaune was about to continue his search when his eye caught sight of something peculiar.

The old tree the roots of which he had just vaulted over was a gnarled monstrosity that leaned towards the ground, some of its roots having been unearthed like coiled brown ropes attached to a capsizing mast. A small white object rested inside the shadowed cavity created between the slant tree and the leaf-covered ground. Jaune couldn't discern what the object was with all the leaves and dirt obscuring said object, but from what he could see its exposed parts were too intricate for it to be just an oddly shaped rock.

The blond lumberjack leaned down to examine the object from closer, absentmindedly grabbing a pointy stick from his collection of firewood. That hole seemed like a prime location for a snake nest, and Jaune didn't fancy shoving his hand into the leaves just to discover that there was a serpent curled around his find.

Using the stick to knock the leaves away from the white thing Jaune was rewarded with the sight of a small marble statue almost as tall as his arm. The statue depicted some kind of war goddess dressed in compact armor, a round shield was attached to her back and a spear was held in one of her hands. The goddess' expression was one of determination and kindness, understanding brimming in her unseeing eyes that stared at him under her marble circlet.

Jaune, embarrassingly enough, wasn't familiar with most deities save for the patron of Knights that his father used to pray to before important battles. Maybe his mother would be able to shed some light as to the identity of the marble goddess.

Extracting the statue from the earthen cavity with hasty movements due to the possibility of a snake sleeping underneath it, Jaune emptied his satchel, shoving the statue inside of it. Sundown was approaching fast and Jaune had lost hope of retrieving the axe before it got dark. He would have to beg Mister Ozpin to give him more time to search for the tool and come back tomorrow after finishing Cardin's chores to resume his doomed endeavor.

Maybe his mother would be able to sell the statue as a garden decoration and buy Opal's doll with the extra Lien instead of the money they would be forced to compensate Ozpin for his lost property.

The loud protest of Jaune's stomach dispelled thoughts of the statue and weird neighbors as the young lumberjack started the long trek to return home, the comforting weight of the marble goddess somewhat lessening his worries.

* * *

**0000 **

"I am sorry Jaune, but I don't know who she is supposed to be," Ariadne Arc said while setting the table, her daughters were helping her, carrying plates and cutlery, "Perhaps the woman isn't a goddess, but just a famous warrior. I will ask around if anyone wants to buy the statue dear, but garden gnomes and cute animal sculptures are more popular than shrine guardians, nowadays I am afraid. Now go wash yourself before diner," His mother commanded.

Pouting in disappointment, Jaune made a quick stop to his room to set down the statue on his desk next to a flower vase, before heading for the table next to the door with a heavy heart. The water basin on the table was filled with lukewarm water that Jaune used to splash away the dirt from his features.

Troublesome thoughts invaded the teenager's mind even as the water trailed down his forehead and cheeks. Jaune would have to find a way to earn some Lien soon if he wanted to help his family. But what could he do to improve their financial condition? Could he sell the statue to a craftsman to use its marble as raw materials? Bringing the ivory goddess to the temple might also be a good idea. The priestess there might recognize her and bargain with him for the marble statue. The thing looked quite old, but amazingly so there were no visible cracks on its surface.

"Jaune, come downstairs before your sisters eat all of the food." His mother's voice rang from the dining room. The blond teenager started washing his hands, hurriedly.

"I'm coming, mom!" He shouted, hastily wiping his hands on a tower. Bouncing down the steps of the staircase, Jaune had already forgotten about the existence of the marble statue that momentarily shone a soothing green color when the rays of the setting sun filtering through the bedroom's window touched its strange diadem.

* * *

**0000**

Silent like ghosts the faunus marauders crept closer to the sleeping settlement, their night visions aiding them in finding their way in the darkness. The members of the criminal organization were wearing black hooded cloaks and had wrapped their weapons in rags to minimize the possibility of them being spotted by the locals. And although the farming town of Avalon wasn't big enough to possess a protective wall that surrounded it, the mayor employed a handful of soldiers that acted as guards and peacekeepers, patrolling the streets after nightfall. Granted, those soldiers deemed patrolling a waste of their time and could be usually found slacking off at the tavern, but they occasionally did their job and the members of the White Fang wouldn't be caught with their guards down.

The White Fang reached the fences of the most secluded houses without a problem and got to work. They silenced the dogs of the residents with well-placed shots of their bows from afar and entered the stables killing whatever horses they could find. They ambushed a lone guardsman when he went for a leak and stole his uniform to masquerade one of them as a town's defender. The fake guardsman knocked on the doors of the smaller houses and demanded entrance before his companions unleashed their wraths upon the unprepared townsfolk.

Soon enough, Avalon was filled with the cries of the dying and the cackle of burning houses. The marauders run about slaughtering every human on sight, butchering the farmers that tried to fend them off with pitchforks and hoes, bricks and kitchen knives. The bandits were experienced fighters and better armed than startled peasants. The ferocious looters overwhelmed the residents with ease and murdered the traitorous scum that had tried to coexist with those that enslaved them as the local faunus tried to reason with them.

* * *

**0000**

The screams of the dying could be heard from the nearby houses as Ariadne Arc ushered her family to safety. The stench of smoke hung in the air, the heat rolling off the deserted buildings as the frail structures burned down and collapsed into heaps of ash and blackened timber. People were running about clenching their belongings in their chests, seeking their loved ones in the crowd.

"Mommy I'm scared!" Opal sniffled, holding her teddy bear tightly. Ariadne drew her closer to comfort her, counting blonde heads amongst the procession of survivors that attempted to escape the massacre. The matriarch of the Arc family let out a sigh of relief, temporally reassured by the fact that all of her children were still part of the refugee group.

Two soldiers were guarding the flanks of the procession and another one was at the head of it guiding them through the deathtrap of their burning town. Men and women armed with various farming tools and daily objects were walking beside the small line of refugees, the farmers were glaring at every shadow and twitching at every new cry of pain that echoed from behind the burning walls.

A young Adventurer, one of those Huntsmen as people often called them, had also joined the procession a little while ago and was now keeping an eye on the rear of the group while helping the wounded keep up with the rest of the survivors.

Yatsuhashi's muscular build and gentle tone calmed down the crying children that were riding on the ox wagon along with the injured and the elderly. The vehicle slowed them down considerably but was a necessary evil for when the survivors would escape the town and have to march into the wildness until they reached the closest settlement to Avalon. The rural village of Pitchwork was a day's travel away from the burning town and the elderly wouldn't make it there if they traveled on foot.

Ariadne was heartened to see her only son walking close to his sisters, his father's old blade and shield held at the ready, despite Jaune's complete lack of martial training. The blond boy scanned the streets for signs of the heinous marauders, determined to protect his family like the brave knights that he looked up to. Ariadne could see that her son had inherited Jason's courage. She silently prayed that Jaune's own ending wouldn't be as sudden and tragic as that of his father.

Rounding a corner the caravan of refugees came face to face with the hooded figures of three marauders. The soldier at the front yelled in alarm as a crossbow bolt pierced his throat, his knees instantly buckling under his own weight. People cried out in anger and fright, a group of farmers rushing at the front of the procession to defend their families, the marauders dashing forward like rabid dogs consumed by their need to maim and kill.

Ariadne wrapped her arms around her youngest, more battle cries echoing from their surroundings. White Fang members sprang forth from the shadows, stepping out of their covers brandishing blood-stained weapons and sporting malicious smiles. Jaune raised his shield to defend them, bless his heart. Meanwhile Yatsuhashi was already moving to intercept a group of bandits that attacked the rear of the caravan.

"Die human scum!" Hissed one of the formerly crying refugees, sinking her concealed dagger into the back of a burly farmer. The bearded man produced a grunt of surprise, attempting to turn around as the second stab found its way into his spine. The hood of the Faunus woman slipped down as she plunged her dagger into the flesh of her screaming victim, revealing a pair of stubby triangular ears that had been pressed flat against her skull until that moment. As if on cue, one of the soldiers that guarded the group joined the marauders, beheading a housewife armed with a rolling pin in the process.

The children screamed, their parents attempting to keep them out of harm's way. Some civilians panicked, breaking out of the procession and running towards the burning buildings intending to hide from their pursuers. Most of them were cut down before they even reached the closest homes.

There was a terrible sound of metal clashing against metal as Jaune deflected the war hammer of a snarling marauder with his shield. The bandit had taken advantage of the havoc around him to attack the civilians while the defenders were confused and disoriented. Jaune had noticed him through the plumes of smoke and the sea of moving bodies at the last moment. The blond teen had reflexively lifted his shield to protect his face from the bandit's downward swing. The force behind the blow had caught Jaune off-guard. The boy had almost allowed the shield to smash into his face, before he had put more strength into his arm to prevent that outcome. With a strained push he managed to shove the attacker away.

Little Opal was sobbing in the arms of her pale-faced mother. Jaune could recognize her voice as sweat rolled down his neck, his wide eyes focused on his opponent, his legs were trembling even as he stood between the scowling marauder and his family.

The man in front of him was at least a head taller than him with muscular arms and a pair of ram horns sprouting from his temples. Hate and violence radiated from his aggressive posture as he stared at the terrified teenager through the slits of his mask. Jaune's sword was facing the starless sky, seemingly forgotten in the boy's grasp. Trapped in the unseen gaze of the ram faunus, the world around Jaune was slowly coming to a halt. His senses were sharpening as adrenaline flooded his veins.

The flames of the raging fire laughed at the sight of the bloodshed, the stench of smoke made people choke and caused their eyes to water. Shadows and light were flickering across ashen faces, glassy eyes and descending swords. There were squeals of pain, booming bellows of victory, shouts of despair and the sobbing of crying children. Bodies thudded on the ground and blood dripped from the surface of makeshift weapons. The ox that had been dragging the wagon around until now had been killed moments after the fight had started and people had gathered around it like moths drawn to a flame. Bandits and farmers fought near the vehicle, hell-bent on slaughtering the defenseless passengers and saving their loved ones from the murderous defectors, respectively.

Yatsuhashi was fighting three bandits at the same time, the corpse of another marauder lying close by, its blood-stained torso almost sliced in half. The young Huntsman was doing his best to prevent the three bandits from joining the melee, knowing that the former soldiers with their training would easily overpower the inexperienced civilians. The back of the procession was secured as long as Yatsuhashi held his position, yet the Adventurer knew that he wouldn't be able to disengage from the fight and help the defenders without showing his back to his foes. If he fell, the White Fang would ambush the survivors from behind and the people of Avalon would be massacred in the span of a few minutes.

Yatsuhashi could tell from the death screams that rang behind him that they people of Avalon were losing. There was nothing that he could do, however, but to keep the White Fang at bay and pray for a miracle. Travelers were a rare sight in those parts, but maybe a party of questing Adventurers would spot the smoke from afar and come to investigate what was happening. The chances of such an occurrence were slim, yet Yatsuhashi was a man that treasured hope and tried to hold on to it even at the darkest of times. The gentle giant prepared himself as a faunus bandit charged him.

* * *

**0000**

Ariadne and the oldest Arc sisters were swinging broom handles and pans in front of them to scare off the advancing marauders, their faces covered in soot and glinting with perspiration. The younger girls cowered behind the matriarch, sobbing and trembling with their eyes closed shut and hands pressed against their ears in a futile attempt to block out the scenes of carnage that took place around them. A young black-haired boy that had been separated from his family was also hiding behind the Arc females, his fists were shaking as he sniffled, glaring at the butchers that had hurt his daddy.

Jaune was taking a beating. There was no easier way to describe the teenager's desperate struggle against the bulky ram faunus. The bandit rained down blow after blow against the aspiring knight's shield. The strikes were so fierce that Jaune's arm had gone numb, his grip on the shield was clumsy and rigid, his muscles were aching. The faunus didn't appear to be getting tired as the fight progressed, he enjoyed toying with his victim. The bandit delivered staggering blows with his war hammer, and even headbutted the shield with his horns at times. He mercilessly exploited the holes in Jaune's defense as the blond knight readjusted the shield to punch and kick at the teenager before Jaune recovered from his attack.

Jaune had a split lip and a partially closed eye, his shoulder hurt where the faunus had punched him, yet the young Arc stood up every time the bandit knocked him down. Jaune's parries were getting slower as exhaustion drained his strength, his uncoordinated attacks looked pathetic even in his own eyes. Jaune thrust and waved his sword around like a child would flaunt a wooden stick. His opponent casually stepping back and then retaliating with swift swings of his own weapon whenever the blond boy attempted to go on the offensive. Jaune had almost got his sword arm broken the first time he had tried to stab the marauder.

"Why are you doing this?" The teenager tried to reason with the growling man, earning another bruise for his question. Jaune's lungs were constricting painfully inside his ribcage as he panted. Sweat slid down his neck, blood dripped from his busted lip. The marauder spat, stomping on Jaune's foot, the iron-encased handle of his war hammer descending to crack open the boy's skull.

Jaune hissed in pain, without thinking, he punched the bandit with his shield, blindly. The attack connected with the bandit's head, dazing the marauder that had been solely focused on murdering the annoying teen. Unable to retreat with one of his feet immobilized by the weight of his opponent and with the bulky bandit already into his guard ready to murder him, Jaune swung his sword horizontally with all of his strength, desperation and fear fueling his actions.

The blade bit deeply into the skin of the marauder who cried out in pain, stepping back with a hand pressed against his wounded torso. Jaune stared at the scarlet liquid that slipped between the marauder's shaky fingers. His own body was shaking, his throat had gone dry. The marauder looked at his wound and then back at Jaune, hatred glinting behind his orbs.

The filthy human had injured him. He was going easy on the wretched brat, toying with it. He was giving the boy a chance to play the hero before he beat it to a bloody pulp in front of its family. The kid had taken advantage of his kindness. It had taken advantage of his trust, lashing out at him when he had let his guard down, much like how all of its treacherous kind did whenever the Faunuskind tolerated their unworthy existence. Humans were honorless savages! They discriminated against the faunus, branding them and enslaving them. Treating them like inferior beings and looking down on them with their cold unfeeling eyes.

The marauder shouted into the night, letting go of his wound to grab his war hammer with both hands and bring it down upon the shield of the accursed human.

Jaune fell to his knees as he lifted the shield over his head, dropping his sword to avoid being bludgeoned to death, supporting the metal barrier with both arms. The rampaging bandit spat promises of excruciating pain and dismemberment as he brought his war hammer down again and again, intending to pulverize Jaune along with his shield.

Blood dripped from the wounds of the marauder as he pummeled away at the obstacle in front of him. The faunus laughed and screamed, his crazy eyes glaring at the deformed Arc symbol that decorated the battered shield. A symbol that the bandit was familiar with from his time serving as a soldier in the Atlesian army fighting in the Vale-Atlas war.

There've been many a tale of the silver knight commander that rode into the battlefield decimating their ranks with his peerless blade, and even more stories of the impenetrable shield with the golden arcs that defended the crown from assassins.

This was the knight commander's son, the laughing faunus realized. He had the chance to avenge his fallen comrades and wipe the bloodline of the Arc House off of the face of Remnant! Perverse glee flooded the White Fang grunt at the prospect of murdering the descendants of Vale's war hero.


	2. Chapter 2

"Stop crying Carmine, the bad people are going to find us!" The ten year old Citron pleaded as he cradled his baby brother in his arms, rocking him gently. Carmine only seemed to cry harder, however, the baby's face was red and covered in tears. The newborn was hungry and scared of the screams that rose in the night sky. Citron pressed his back against the dirty walls of the dog house he had crawled into in order to hide. The masked strangers had luckily gone after the adults that run away from the procession allowing him to escape their wrath by the skin of his teeth. The boy had sprinted away from the sounds of the fight, the laughter of the robed strangers following him as he dashed across the burning town.

Citron didn't dare to move closer to the houses. He had seen the looters break into the intact buildings and drag out the owners, executing them on the street like dogs. The scenes of violence the young boy had watched from its hidden place would scar Citron forever.

Overhearing the sound of footsteps through the cries of his sibling, the blood drained from the face of the older boy. The footsteps were slow, but purposeful. Their sound wasn't the stomping tempo of rampaging marauders hunting their prey, neither were they the stumbling footsteps of a man that's running for his life. Citron's breath hitched, desperately rocking Carmine in his arms to silence his cries, already knowing how futile that would prove.

The stranger was close enough to hear the bawling. The boy could tell that it was only one person, a looter with sharp hearing that's starving for bloodshed. Citron's heart was beating fast. Darting out of his hiding spot would prove pointless if the bandit was close enough to be able to strike him down the moment his head popped out of the dog house.

The footsteps stopped just outside of the siblings' flimsy shelter made of wooden planks and rusty nails. A pair of sturdy leather boots became visible from the opening, the long shaft of a weapon halted on the ground next to the crooked doorframe. The boy could see drops of blood slipping from the upper part of the weapon where its lethal edge had snuffed out the lives of his neighbors and friends.

Citron could only embrace Carmine and whimper in fright when the stranger leaned down to regard him with a pair of cool emerald orbs, an outstretching hand covered in blood reaching into the dog house to grab him.

* * *

**0000 **

There was some kind of commotion behind him that Yatsuhashi didn't have the luxury to address for the time being. Two of his opponents lay dead, but the marauder that was left standing was the strongest of the three. Yatsuhashi couldn't see her animal trait although he suspected her to be a faunus from the feline family because of the gracefully way that she moved. The woman wielded a scimitar and a short whip, her fighting style revolving around limiting the movements of her opponents with the whip and finishing them off with the bladed weapon while they were restrained.

She was swift and deadly and strong enough to work as an Adventurer if she so desired, Yatsuhashi mussed bitterly, leaning slightly backwards to avoid being hit by the jagged iron tip of the woman's whip. The Huntsman's thoughts grew restless. The marauder was taking her sweet time, keeping him occupied with her ranged attacks until her companions massacred all of the survivors. Every time Yatsuhashi would charge at her she would jump back to maintain her range advantage, harassing him with her whip from the distance.

The Adventurer was wary of this particular bandit's weapons. He had deflected the metal part of the whip towards another marauder during their fight and the faunus that had been struck by it had collapsed shortly afterwards, frothing and writhing in pain. The unfortunate bandit had stopped moving after a while, remaining eerily still since then. Whatever substance the masked woman had coated her weapons with was extremely potent and acted fast. A single mistake could cost the Huntsman his life.

The whip cracked angrily, its barbed metal tip slicing through the air with frightening speed, forcing the Adventurer to hide behind the flat side of his falchion. Sparks danced near the point of the weapons collision, the whip already darting back, spinning then lunging to gouge out his eyes.

Yatsuhashi hid behind his enormous weapon once more, bending low he charged at the faunus. The woman instantly jumped back, her scimitar adopting a defensive position even as she brought her whip arm behind her, ready to lash out with it at any moment. A fighting pattern that Yatsuhashi had become intimately familiar with and had devised a plan to work around the bandit's defenses.

The Huntsman dug his falchion into the soil as he charged, striking upwards with his weapon to launch small rocks and dirt at the marauder's face. The attack caught her off guard, dealing superficial damage while momentarily blinding her.

The woman hissed as she rolled to the side to put distance between her and the Adventurer. She swung her whip in front of her in a wide arc to dissuade the swordsman from approaching her. The faunus' heart sank when the weapon made contact with the body of her foe producing a clanking sound instead of a pained grunt. Her scimitar chopped forward at a moderate high. The world around her was blurry as tears welled up in her sensitive faunus eyes, a stinging sensation on them making her blink rapidly.

Her scimitar slid against the imposing silhouette of the Adventurer, producing a mournful sound like knives racking the bottom of a frying pan as the poisoned edge scrapped the surface of his wrist guard. The world suddenly tilted and turned upside-down, the bandit losing all feeling below her waist. She blinked in surprise as a torrent of blood bathed her lower limbs, unimaginable pain wracking her body.

She saw the falchion descending, coming closer and closer to her, and then blissful darkness engulfed her, washing away her pain.

* * *

**0000**

A wounded faunus cursed out loud when a rock thrown by a crying child struck his retreating form. A saber carved an angry red line across the chest of a middle-aged woman that used her body to shield her elderly father from the attack. The old man rasped something before the faunus drew back his arm for another swing, seconds later the elderly farmer expired next to his dying daughter. Numerous bodies were splayed around the immobilized wagon, faunus and human blood mixing on the ground.

"You are done for," A rumbling voice mocked the injured teenager. Jaune just glared at the murderer from the ground, the nauseating taste of blood filling his mouth. The shield of his father was lying next to him, the once pristine heirloom now nothing more than a deformed lump of metal. Jaune held his broken arm as the faunus drew closer, the marauder's chipped and crumbling war hammer was hanging loosely from the man's meaty fingers, a testament to the craftsmanship of the late knight commander's equipment.

Although the bandit's weapon had sustained a great deal of damage from caving in the boy's shield, it could still bludgeon the young Arc to death, of that Jaune was certain. What a cruel way to go, contemplated the collapsed knight. The blond couldn't even stand up or crawl away from the faunus in his exhausted state.

Jaune's limbs were heavy like tree logs, the dark form of the grinning faunus was towering over him, his sadistic smile made Jaune sick to his stomach.

"Human trash should know their place and grovel on the ground where they belong," Growled the marauder, his hand clasping Jaune's shirt to bring the boy closer. Jaune could smell the stench of decayed teeth and booze on the man's breath. He could count the little ridges on his ram horns and make out the layers of dirt nestled in their bony ravines.

"This is justice," The burly man spluttered hysterically, spittle flying from his leering mouth, "You have to atone for the arrogance of your kin, you have to be punished for the sins of your ancestors and your father." The last word was spat at him, enunciated through gritted teeth, hissed with all of the hate that clouded the bandit's mind.

"Atlas was wrong to enslave the faunus," Jaune coughed weakly, his words making the rambling murderer pause and bob his head, enthusiastically, "What they did to you was unforgivable, but Vale had nothing to do with it. The people of Avalon have nothing to do with it," The teenager stared the marauder straight in the eye peering into the slits of his mask, "You are throwing your weight around those that cannot defend themselves, tormenting them just because you can get away with it. Atlas was wrong but you are just as bad as the kingdom that used you and then discarded you. You are acting like the very animals that your former masters claimed you to be."

A burning pain exploded against Jaune's cheek, his head unwittingly turning sideways.

"Shut up," Seethed the ram faunus, his entire body trembling in rage, "Shut up," He repeated, punching Jaune again when the boy turned to glare at him with condescending eyes, "Of course you would pick the side of your human buddies, you haven't been mistreated your whole life. You haven't suffered through the mistrust and discrimination that my people have to face on a daily basis. You are but a foolish brat!" The marauder growled his fingers twitching as his hand released its hold on the boy's shirt only to grab the teenager from the throat, keeping him in place. The chipped and cracked war hammer rose for a downwards strike looking more deadly than any executioner's axe.

"I will show you what happens to those that overestimate and belittle the faunuskind. Your father's legacy will end with you, slaver!" The faunus man grinned from ear to ear, his fingernails digging into Jaune's neck. The battered weapon came down, swift and merciless. A scream was torn from stained lips as a hot blood splattered on the ground.

The war hammer of the marauder fell from his hand, his wide eyes lowering to examine the gold and red spearhead that protruded from his chest. The bandit tried to say something but the next moment the spear was pulled out of his flesh, his body was tossed to the side like garbage by a frowning Amazon.

Jaune just stared at her, the woman whose likeness had been captured in the marble statue he had found earlier that day. She was a lot taller than he would have imagined, prettier too, but then again Jaune was comparing her to a chunk of lifeless stone. Vivid emerald orbs stared back at him as the female warrior drew closer to him. Jaune noticed a little boy with a bundle of cloth in its arms standing behind her, looking just as nervous and confused as he felt.

The woman flourished her golden spear making Jaune flinch from the ground as she flicked away the blood of her kill. The goddess then dropped on one knee in front of him, ignoring the cheers of the survivors as they drove off the last of the bandits with the help of the Yatsuhashi. The crimson waterfall of the Amazon's long ponytail spilled down her shoulders as she bowed to him, the light bronze armor that she wore enunciating her perfect figure.

"Greetings mortal, my name is Pyrrha, Goddess of Victory and I shall be your spear and your shield from now on. I will protect you and your interests and obliterate your enemies in honor of our contract."" The goddess smiled at him soothingly despite the soot and bloodstains on her beautiful features. Blood that didn't seem to belong to her, Jaune duly noted.

The Arc knight blinked? Certain that his blood loss and his relief had started affecting his hearing. Nobody had ever introduced themselves to him in such an unconventional way before, or bowed to him for that matter. Regardless of circumstances, there was absolutely no reason for a goddess to bend the knee for a nobody like him and offer to be his bodyguard. The word 'contract' puzzled him too, since Jaune couldn't remember signing anything. True, his sisters often made fun of him for daydreaming about becoming a knight and forgetting things, but If Jaune had agreed to sell his soul to a higher being for immense power he would remember it, right?

"C-could you repeat that?" Jaune murmured while struggling to stay awake, exhaustion and the unexpected feeling of relief adding to the strain that his injuries were putting on his body. The goddess frowned at him, looking somewhat troubled.

Jaune cursed his own stupidity. Of course he would find a way to insult a goddess that had gone out of her way to save his hide. He hoped she wasn't going to smite him for his audacity or turn him into a frog or a bug, or whatever angry goddesses did to punish foolish mortals these days.

"Greetings mortal, my name is Pyrrha, Goddess of Victory and I shall be your spear and your shield from now on. I will protect you and your interests and obliterate your enemies in honor of our contract." The redheaded warrior repeated slowly as if she was trying to figure out if she was unfamiliar with the language of Remnant and it was her fault that Jaune couldn't understand her simple statement.

Jaune stared at her, attempting to find traces of insincerity in her beautiful determined visage. His vision blurred and dimmed, yet the Amazon didn't rise to her feet, her expression didn't falter for a single moment.

"Oh-h? T-that's good to know." Jaune mumbled weakly as his vision faded to black.

* * *

**0000 **

Jaune opened his eyes with a small groan of pain. His body felt like it had been trampled by a horse carriage, his broken appendage was apparently secured in a makeshift arm sling, there were bandages wrapped around his head. The sun shone through the window of his cozy bedroom, the air still carrying the stench of burnt wood, the mourning of the townspeople could be heard from the nearby buildings.

Jaune was relieved to see that his room, and more importantly their home had survived the wrath of the White Fang marauders. His desk was broken and his clothes had been thrown out of the closer and onto the floor, but other than that the room seemed just like he had left it before the nightmare had started. Jaune could hear his mother and his sisters cooking in the kitchen below, the familiar voices of Saphron and Sapphire were whining for having to tidy up the house. Jaune smiled at the normality of the situation, he still had trouble believing that their peaceful town of Avalon had been attacked by bandits.

The recovering Arc's mouth filed with bile at the thought of his family getting hurt. They were safe now, Jaune reminded himself, the voices of his complaining siblings were too cheerful for him to assume that the town was under siege or that one of them had been killed during the attack. Old man Ozpin along with a black-haired farmer welding a scythe had protected the Arcs from the marauders while he held off the muscular ram faunus. Jaune would have to repay them somehow. An Arc always honored his debts, that was what his father had taught him.

An object placed on his nightstand drew the young Arc's attention. Jaune stood up with a sharp inhale, wobbling closer to the damaged item, his hand trembled as it reached out to touch it. His father's shield was out of commission, the metal had caved in forming small craters across its surface. The symbol of the Arc clan had been bent and partially scratched off from the chipped hammer of the ram bandit raining blows upon it.

His father's shield was destroyed. Jaune felt guilt and sadness well up in his heart. His thumb brushed against the caved golden arcs. A tear run down his face.

"Jaune! You're awake!" The voice of Opal startled him. Jaune groaned in pain when his youngest sister lunged at him, her arms coiling around his waist in a hug. Jaune grabbed the nightstand with his good hand to maintain his balance, Opal pressing her face against his stomach crying softly. It only took Jaune a moment to reciprocate the hug. The two siblings remained still while Opal sniffled and Jaune ruffled her hair.

"I see that my sleepyhead of a son is finally awake it seems," Ariadne Arc smiled at the sight of her hugging children from the doorway. The Arc matriarch looked tired sporting black bags under her eyes, a result of the two days she had spent by the side of her wounded son praying for his recovery.

"Good morning, mom." Jaune croaked, too overwhelmed by his emotions to keep his voice steady. The scent of food wafted to Jaune's nose making his stomach rumble when a third person entered his bedroom holding a tray with a big bowl of meat stew in their hands. Jaune's eyes turned the size of saucers as the Amazon goddess that had saved him set down the tray on his nightstand. The redheaded woman sent him a warm smile standing behind his mother.

"Thank you for helping me bring the food to Jaune, Pyrrha," The Arc matriarch beamed at the armored warrior while retrieving her youngest daughter and shooing her out of the bedroom.

"I'm sure that you and my son have a lot to talk about, so we'll give you some privacy, dear." Miss Arc said with something akin to mischievousness twinkling behind her wise blue orbs. Opal appeared reluctant to leave Jaune but the whispered promise of candy had the little girl following her mother downstairs like an obedient lamb trailing behind its shepherd. Jaune swallowed thickly trying to wrap his mind around the fact that not only a beautiful girl that looked to be about his age, but an actual warrior-goddess was alone with him in his room.

"Thank you for saving me Lady Pyrrha." The aspiring knight mumbled meekly not knowing how to address an actual god. The edges of the Amazon's smile twitched downwards for a brief moment, before Pyrrha recovered hiding her displeasure.

"Just Pyrrha will suffice Jaune of Arc, I am your patron deity after all. There is no need for formalities between us." The armor-clad warrior replied seating down on the chair next to Jaune's bed that his mother used to sit upon as she nursed the unconscious boy. Perplexed by that bizarre revelation and uncertain if he should remain standing and risk offending the goddess by keeping his head on a higher level than her, Jaune sat down on the bed opposite of her.

"Pyrrha," Jaune mumbled the name trying to get a feel for it on his tongue. The goddess' reaction was instant as her smile widened and her emerald gaze brightened considerably. "Why did you call yourself my patron deity?" Jaune inquired, now less nervous that the goddess was acting friendly instead of smiting him for not knowing how to address her.

"Because you gave me an offering, bringing me back to life." The female warrior replied quickly without losing a beat, her answer only serving to further confuse the blond boy.

"An offering?" Jaune repeated, his eyebrows furrowing as the young Arc attempted to remember if he had truly done such a thing. Despite Pyrrha's encouraging nod, however Jaune couldn't recall gifting something to the fiery-haired goddess.

"This might be able to refresh your memory." The amazon hummed, patiently reaching for something into her bodice. Jaune felt his face heat up as he spluttered unintelligibly, averting his gaze with a surprised yelp. The Arc knight's embarrassment turning into bedazzlement and then recognition as Pyrrha presented him with a single white lily.

The wild lily that Jaune had kept in his room after last week's attempt at being a florist had failed so miserably. On a mere whim, and thinking that it would be a waste for him to discard the flower, the blond had decided to put the lily in a vase on top of his desk instead of throwing away. The very same vase next to which Jaune had unwittingly placed the marble statue, before he had headed down to join his family for dinner.

"It's been so long since someone has offered me flowers instead of animal sacrifices and swords," The redheaded goddess giggled as she smelled the white lily in her hand, her emerald orbs sparkling with joy," That has to be expected I guess, given my father's reputation." The smiling Amazon concluded in a softer tone of voice.

"And w-who that might be?" Jaune asked already dreading the answer. The poor Arc knight was torn between a) wanting to explain to Pyrrha that the whole offering thing, as she called it had been a huge misunderstanding on her part, b) gifting her the flower for saving him and his family, anyway, and c) keeping silent in order to avoid angering or disappointing the goddess.

Pyrrha looked at him for a second as if to discern if the mortal's puzzlement was genuine or an act to gain her favor. His confusion seemed sincere and his nervous movements only reinforced the goddess' belief that the young man had no idea who was seating in front of him. That definitely explained why her benefactor wasn't prostrating before her trembling in fear at the possibility of incurring the wrath of her father for bounding her to his life. After so many eons of her living in the shadow of her father and having to deal with his fanatical worshippers that craved conflict and bloodshed, the Goddess of Victory found the naive and informal attitude of the mortal that had summoned her refreshing.

She didn't have to pretend to be someone that she wasn't to preserve the image of the God of war, she didn't have to put herself up on a pedestal as the offspring of two popular deities in a world that had forgotten about them.

"My father is the mighty Ares God of war and battle, and my mother is the golden Aphrodite the Goddess of love and beauty," Declared the red-haired amazon humbly as Jaune stared at her frozen in place. "And since you are the one that brought me back to life by becoming my first follower and summoning me to Remnant once again, your mortal life is bound to my eternal essence. You are my Head Priest and my champion Jaune of Arc just like I am your patron goddess and protector." Pyrrha smiled sweetly as the Arc knight's brain fizzled out and shut down. Jaune fainted after squeaking a feminine yelp.

The End

* * *

**Notes: The idea behind the story came from Pyrrha's monologue about people practically worshipping her for her skills and her name that means Goddess of Victory. Her having the martial prowess of Ares and the caring nature of Aphrodite made sense as it described her perfectly in my opinion. In relevance to the original's aversion of her fame, Goddess Pyrrha would be worshiped by warriors and warlords for her relation to Ares thus living in the shadow of her father, never to be seen as her own person. Jaune is the first mortal to summon her without knowing her parents' identity something that pleases her greatly. **

* * *

**Extra scene:  
**

The green liquid inside the rusty cauldron bubbled away as it boiled, the stench coming from the murky and viscous concoction smelled like death. Cinder's eyes scrunched up in concentration as she read Salem's instructions for the recipe. Or at least that was the witch's intent. The handwriting of Cinder's late grandmother looked like chicken scratch that had been scribbled in a line. The unamused witch's concentration was momentarily broken by the sound of excited knocking on her front door.

Cinder spared a quick glance at her boiling cauldron, placed her pointy hat on the ingredient table and headed upstairs to scare off whoever was bothering her.

"Yes?" The impatient woman scowled, opening the door and shoving her head out of it to glare at her unwelcome visitor. Cinder had to hurry up and finish brewing her poison, those babies and princesses wouldn't poison themselves!

The sight of a dashing young man dressed in gold and red robes made Cinder pause and look at him in confusion. Was there some kind of celebration that required weird costumes taking place today?

Jaune Arc smiled at her, his shield and spear necklace clinking as the young priest took a step forward to greet his fellow peasant, shoving his foot inside the doorway out of habit while the door was still open. A leather-bound journal was held against his chest, his eyes shone in an unnerving way, even for Cinder.

"Excuse me, Miss. Do you have time to talk about our lord and savor, Pyrrha?" He beamed at her.


End file.
